Sleepless in Transit

The worst nightmare is when you have to waste time in between the flights. What does one do? You can read a book or work on your computer but when you are very tired all you want to do is to stretch, but where?

Whenever I visit Canary Islands, I am required to change flights and am forced to spend many hours in the transit. There are different routes to reach Canary Islands but go by any route I have to change three flights. This time I chose the route from Mumbai to Zurich to Barcelona by Swiss airlines and from Barcelona to Tenerife by domestic Vuelling airlines.

My flight from Zurich to Barcelona was delayed by over two hours, as the result I missed my connecting flight to Tenerife. For no fault of mine I had to buy a new ticket and catch the next flight that was after six hours.

But what should I do for six hours? Should I call my family in Barcelona to come to fetch me and take me out for lunch and sightseeing? What if they are busy? I looked around, many people were at the airport, some at the coffee shop, some at duty free shops and the most tired ones, sitting uncomfortably on the chairs or sitting on the floor.

There have been times when I have visited a family or whiled away my hours just walking around the airport, visiting duty free stores. I was not aware that anybody could use the VIP lounge for a fee. I was under the impression that such facility was available only for VIP personals, who travelled by business or First class. It was the first time I was to discover that VIP lounge is accessible regardless of class of ticket or airline we are travelling with.

For a fee of just twenty-five euro, I checked in VIP lounge.

It was a different experience all together. I helped myself with handful of assorted candies at the reception and entered a large salon. “All the refreshments and drinks are on the house” said the lady in charge. All that I wanted to do was to stretch on a sofa. My back was hurting bad from sitting at airports and flights for more than seventeen hours. 

 I looked around the lounge. Some people sat comfortable on large sofas, watching TV. There was a magazine rack that had newspapers and books of different publications. Next to the magazine rack was the snack station that contained assorted chips, pickled olives, croissants, biscuits and wine bottles immersed in ice bucket. I helped myself with chips, Olives and glass of wine, entered a rest area that had six cubicles, each with large beds. On the bed I lay, sipping wine and popping olives, flipping through the pages of a magazine till I doused off to sleep.

I slept for three hours.

Completely refreshed, I had shower and helped myself with Coffee and croissants.  It was self service, people picked whatever they wanted from cabinets of drinks, refreshments, packed salads. I walked around to do people watching and view watching till I saw cyber cafe.

Bliss.

The next hour was fruitfully spent checking the email and logging on to Facebook and Twitter account.

Oh, by the way, that six hours wait in the transit was too short, I think……

Wordless Wednesday - Love story

Our Children deserve a better future

Although Mumbai is my favorite city in the world, it fails me sometimes when it cannot keep itself clean.

It stinks.

Walk down any beach in Mumbai and it is filled with plastic bags and garbage. Sit in the auto rickshaw and you will see the auto fellow spit  bright red patch on the side walk, when he stops at the signal. Travel in the train and you will see the woman sitting opposite you munching on a snack, as soon as she has finished eating, the empty wrapper goes down on the railway tracks.

Are Mumbaikars dirty by nature? They get seriously annoyed if we point out their bad habits. How do we educate them?

The 5^th June is the world environment day and the theme this year is green economy.

So what is green economy?

Green economy is having a good quality of life with less environment risk and is ecologically green

It is important to inculcate the good habits of caring for environment and keeping it clean from childhood itself.  A child who grows up in a clean environment at home develops the habit of showing such etiquettes in the society too.  Children pick up the habits from their parents and from their grown-up with whom they spend most of their time.

How do we train a child if we have not been able to understand this concept?

The area of the earth is not going to increase, we will always use the same square foot of the space on this earth, but what will change is the natural resources that is inversely proportional to the number of people using these resources. If we don’t use our resources intelligently, we will be depriving our children of good quality of life.

With the redevelopment mushrooming in all parts of Mumbai and sky scrapers dressing the sky-line, there will be shortage of water, electricity and greenery if we are not careful.

How many birds do we see in Mumbai?

There are only crows that spread garbage from one balcony to another; there are pigeons that spoil our window sill and fly into the empty homes through broken windows to raise a family. But we don’t normally see those pretty birds that we often saw when we were young, birds like sparrows, cuckoo, parrots and many more?  

The birds have disappeared and have gone away to look for trees, where they can build a home and care for their young ones.

In the concrete jungle of Mumbai, children can take a very active part in making their environment clean and green. It should be mandatory for every child of 5year-old to plant a tree on his birthday, the tree could be planted either in the building garden where he/she lives, or on the street outside his/her house or at the park closer to his/her house. The tree should belong to him/her; he/she should take care of it throughout his life.

Children should be taught to use electricity stingily.  Why do we need to watch TV and still have computer on to socialize with friends on Facebook/twitter during the promos, use AC for all 24 hours of the day, have too many lights on, in short why must we waste electricity?

Children should be given the responsibility of switching off the lights when leaving the room and saving electricity and water in the house. Incentives like extra pocket money can be given to a child when the monthly energy bill shows low consumption.

When we go for marketing, how many of us carry a cloth bag?

Most of the time we forget to take a bag with us and then we have to buy a plastic bag which the vendor will sell. If we don’t stop using plastic, children will learn to ape us too. We have to discourage our children from using plastic; we have to teach them to say ‘No’ to plastic.  No plastic plates, cups, straws, caps, bags, and water bottles. Plastic is very difficult to dispose and when it goes down the drain, it could choke the drain pipe, if dumped into the sea, it could harm the fishes and whales.

source:google

We have to make them aware that we need to maintain a green economy.

They must know how to recycle the waste and create something useful.  They can be encouraged in environmentally friendly activity like making some innovative product from used electronic waste, of creating re-cycled clothes for fashion and cultural shows., of creating films on saving the planet and putting on plays on topic of sustainability.

On this World environment day, let us be the responsible citizen and let us set an example that our children can ape.

The Unplanned Sunday Afternoon

This Sunday was not the day what I had planned to do. I had not planned to go out with the family to soak in the sunshine and visit the nature behind man-made blot. It just happened.

I was sitting with my cousin late night, chatting away, when one of her friend suggested that he take her out for a picnic to Lonavala, ‘Aamby valley’, he said and my antenna shot up to 20 feet, now I have wanted to see this town since a long time but somehow, it has never worked out therefore I decided to tag along if ever such picnic was to take place.

“Can I come along Didi, please?” I said and she smiled gently not confirming if we were to take this trip.

“We will decide in the morning, go to sleep now.” she said

I got up much early than my usual time. 6am is not the time I would opt to wake up on any day, and especially not on Sunday, but then this was not to be an ordinary day.

By 8am, the house was bustling with energy, more than 25 people showed up. We huddled into four cars and started our journey towards Lonavala.

Rainy season is the best time to make a trip to this place which is at the altitude of 620 m above sea level .The hills sing a melodious tune with waterfalls churning out through layers of rocks. Different shades of greens add sparkle to the landscape.

Our first stop was to Naryani Dham which is nestled in the valley. This temple with sparkling ivory white marble had carving even on the roof. The idols of Gods were decked with finest jewelry and brocade clothes that reflected rainbow hues when the lights of the chandeliers and spot lights were focused on them. The spotless and shiny walls had beautifully carved windows in marble. On the ceiling were the paintings of Krishna in his large chariot. Some beautiful designed motifs of colored stones, glass and mirrors decorated the entire upper walls. The building was still under construction, the railing of craved marble was being installed for support. I struggled to walk up the stairs and the volunteer stretched his hand to offer me the support and informed me that there was a separate lift to go up too. It was a cloudy day, as we emerged from the temple, we saw children enjoying the garden equipments and we were tempted too to enjoy a swing or two. We walked down the path which had water fountains along the way till we reached a bigger building which had 60 rooms with attached bathrooms for weary travelers. There were some cottages too behind the temple for people who would like to enjoy the nature for more than one day.   

After a short visit to this Dham we drove through the winding roads, into the deep narrow lanes which opened up into the vast plains and high up on the hill was the Shiva temple.My cousin is the devotee of Lord Shiva and I could see the glow in her eyes as we approached this temple. This was a carved stone structure, well maintained, which had a large black Shiv-ling dominating the centre of the dark room.  There was a  three-forked trishul and dumroo on one side of the black stone Ling. A beautifully carved metal pot hung from the ceiling which had the tiny aperture to the base of the pot. When the devotee poured water into the pot, it dripped drop by drop on the Ling bathing it. They offered rice and vermillion and sprinkled some flower petals on it. Then they sat down with eyes close seeking blessing. A pundit sat there guiding the devotees to the proper way to pray and offereing prasad to every devotee.

 

Next was our program to go to Aamby valley. We had only 8 passes to go to restricted Aamby valley, where one can go only by invitation, so while the rest of the group headed home, only eight of us drove through Bhushi dam and Tiger’s leap to the other side of the hills to reach the Aamby Valley.

 

Aamby valley is the man-made town in the midst of the hills. The architecture and design is worth the visit. The place is well maintained with manicured gardens and proper roads. This is the lonely town, where streets are empty, the privileged few who drove down the streets were crazy, perched on the roof-top or protruding half the body out of the window in the speeding car. At the lake, where we went for the boat ride, there was a loud music where the youngsters danced while waiting for a boat ride. The gardens and side-walks were continuously preened by local gardeners.

This is the town where greenery is restored in its virgin form, with the waters running through its soul, birds chirping freely and flowers have freedom to bloom

In Transit at Frankfurt

When making long distance travel, the biggest hurdle is when there is overnight stay between the flights. Staying with a family is unnecessarily inconveniencing them and even though they are family, it is not my style to trouble them for pick-up from airport just for one night. Checking into the expensive hotels is the added expenditure, which is quite a waste if you do not enjoy the privilege of touring the place and the third option of spending the long night at the airport is draining off your energy with sleepless nights. Waiting in transit is no fun at all. I have tried all three and have not been happy with any of those options.

But, only once I remember, some few years ago, during my transit at Frankfurt, from Tenerife to Mumbai, it was a pleasant stay. There are thousands of hotels in Frankfurt and some at very reasonable rates, but when I am travelling alone, I am always scared to go to an unknown place in a strange city and that is why when my travel agent suggested that I stay with a family for a night with just € 60, I grabbed this opportunity.

I paid € 60 to my travel agent in Tenerife and I was told that the man in charge would come to pick me up from the airport. I arrived at Frankfurt airport at 5pm, not knowing whom to expect. One gentleman in late 60’s approached me and introduced himself as Mr. Advani. Most of my luggage was offloaded directly to Mumbai from Tenerife, so I had only a small hand-carry which he helped me carry to his car.

He drove me through the city, pointing out to important monuments on the street on route to his house. After an hour’s drive we reached his house where his wife gave me a warm welcome. They had a small apartment 3BHK and there were three more men in the room who were there to spend a night. Mrs. Advani offered me a cup of tea and asked me if I wanted to go for a drive with her to the supermarket. I went along, not wanting to sit with strangers in the room. On the way to the supermarket, I learnt that they had grown up children who had moved out and they were bored till they found this hospitality business of accommodating the transit passengers. Everyday, they had visitors from different parts of the world whom her hubby had to pick and drop them back to the airport and the woman cooked the meals for their guests. She also had a garment store in town which was not doing so well.

By the time, we returned from the supermarket, we were friends. I went to the kitchen with her and together we cooked meals. (not that she asked my help, but I cannot sit idle if somebody is busy) Unfortunately, she had no helper at home, so besides helping her with cooking, I also helped her wash dishes and set the table. She was quick and efficient and within one hour, the dinning table was set with proper meals of Dhal, Rice, one vegetable, salad and snacks. The men were deep in conversation, sharing jokes and anecdotes, and when we entered the room, they included us into their conversation. They had Indian channels on TV but nobody was watching that.

The time passed quickly for us and also for that old couple who would have been lonely otherwise, but they were happy to hear our rant and it made them feel alive having found an audience to share their stories. They didn’t miss their family or their children who had moved out to the sunnier sides, they were happy that they were doing something worthwhile for themselves; they were offering a safe haven to the lone travelers. It was only for one night for us, but for them tomorrow would be another day with different set of transit passengers.

Since I was the only women in the group, she offered me a private room, which I could lock from inside while the other men shared the next room. Early next morning, after a hot cup of tea, Mr. Advani dropped me back to the airport just one hour before my departure time.

It was the most memorable and safe one-night stay in transit at Frankfurt.

Corruption - Root of all Evil

During my growing up days, getting admission in colleges was easy. We neither involved our parents in our admission formalities nor in selecting a college for us. The only criterion that was important was high percentage or a wee bit of friendly influence. I don’t remember paying anything extra than just fees which was affordable. Some of my friends were undecided in choosing their career and would hop from one college to another over the period of four years and after graduation, would choose a completely different line. Some were successful in life and some not, but none of them had wasted millions of rupees during their fickle-minded career hip-hops.

Things have changed. More people are educated now and most of them are sure (well, almost) what they wish to do. They have career guidance centers that help them choose the right track. The only problem (now-a-days) is that they need their parents’ help to escort them because unless the parents don’t co-operate to bribe the college faculty for their admission to a good college, they are not likely to pursue the studies of their interest. Corruption is deep rooted in our world today and those who cannot fight, join in.

I met one such parent who had a story to tell.

Sunita is the single parent, a widow, who is a mother to a bright twenty-two year old youth. Yesterday, she proudly showed me her new blackberry that her son had gifted her from his first salary. There were tears in her eyes, tears of joy, happy that she has an earning son. She recalls the day, two years ago, when she had tears of different shade. Those were the tears of fear and stress. She was so stressed out during those days that she would visit every temple, which were known to perform miracle. She prayed to Gods to help her fulfill the dreams that she and her husband had nourished for many years. She wanted some miracle to happen to save her from paying the bribe of seventeen lakhs that the management was asking for granting a seat in their prestigious college.

She was seeking admission for her son for MBA at management institute in Mumbai that boasts 'of professionally managed, multi-disciplinary and multi-faceted oasis of knowledge'. This institute with a mission to redefine the system of education believes that the most profound learning that they can give to their students outside the textbooks is the importance of value, the strength of upright character and an ability to make difference that can set them apart.

Before meeting the student, an interview with their parents is a ‘must’

Sunita, along with group of other parents, waited in queue for an interview with the director of the institute. When her turn arrived, she was asked to deposit her purse and her mobile outside the room. (Were they afraid that she might record the conversation?) She entered a posh room and sat opposite him, admiring the expensive rings on his eight fingers. This gentleman had good taste and to afford that kind of luxury one needs to earn an attractive salary.

“I am a single mom, can you reduce the amount by few lakhs, maybe fifteen?” she pleaded, “Seventeen lakhs is lots of money and I cannot afford that kind of donation.”

“I am sorry” he replied , "We cannot reduce it. We don’t even reduce it for those people who say that they are over-burdened with 3 daughters and that they need to save money for their marriage, nopes, we don’t bargain at all. It is the same amount for everyone.”

Unabled to speak more words, she sat quietly, staring at the blank wall with tears glistening in her eyes. The director moved uncomfortably in his chair, changing his posture..

“However, there is a solution.” He said, “We will be conducting formal interviews for admission next month; all the students who have applied in our college will be called for an interview, if your son excels in that interview successfully then maybe, he will be spared.”

The interview was held for 2500 students and only 60 students were selected from merit list. She was lucky that her son was selected on merit.

“Miracle, this was pure miracle, I just couldn’t believe it” she says “I had gone all the way to Navi Mumbai to one particular temple to pray, actually I went to many more. I am sure God listened to my prayers. I used to emotionally blackmail God to help me fulfill my promise to my hubby”

After finishing two years, her son has a job now and is earning twenty-five thousand a month. She had paid only five lakhs for the course, plus the transport and the food which might take another two years for him to cover the cost of his education.

Yes! He might make his mark in the corporate world (as was promised by the institution's capability to deliver professional education that meets the highest standards of professionalism worldwide).

BUT.....What about those students who did not make it to the list of lucky 60?

Those who were forced to pay the bribe of seventeen lakhs plus five more lakhs as tuition fees plus the expenses of text books, transport and food? What about those desperate ones who borrowed money to fill those greedy bellies of prestigious institutes? How many more years will it take them to earn back that amount?

The foundation of their education was corruption and we should not be surprised if they will fight back with more corruption.

There is no end. me thinks OR Is there?

Shopping for my niece

Who says women like shopping? It is such a boring job especially if you have to shop for others.

These days I am shopping for my niece because she has no time. She is studying medicine in Spain but needs some good clothes for her sister’s wedding and its me and my sister who are aunting.

My sas says she has found one nice store at Elco market in Bandra. I wriggle my nose. I don’t like that flashy market, it used to be nice market once upon a time, but now it has lost its charm. Every time I walk inside the Elco Market, each store assistant opens the door wide, inviting me to walk into their store and I am too embarrassed to refuse. I like to do window shopping but I can’t stand those grinning faces.

My sas and I enter the store where she wants me to have a lookie, lookie….

I really have no intention of buying from this store but when I enter, I see some nice kurtis at reasonable rates.

I ask for a seat.

The store keeper gives me few magazines, asking me to select some designs and he is willing to ape exactly the same pattern. The ‘picture in the magazine’ stares back at me as I try to fit those dresses on my niece’s imaginary figure. I am more interested in seeing intricacy of his work. He shows me his collection of ghagra cholis, mermaid style dresses, embroidered kurtis, saris, etc. The fashion keeps changing and every time I am out window shopping, I have seen new designs, new styles, and newer cuts. There is lot of creativity out there. Every fractured piece becomes a new design and miraculously it works fine. The craftsmanship of the tailors is amazing. There are quilted, embroidered work laced with colorful stones and pearls, some sequences of different shapes, entwined into the collage of typical ethnic styles. The designers use their skills to combine different colors for best visual effects.

As I leaf through different designs in various books, I am not impressed. I have some style of my own,( yes I do design sometimes) etched in my head. I ask for paper pencil and sketch the pattern for the designer to see. I have made five layered, pleated net gown with brocade border and matching belt. The brocade is laced with white stones at the edges. Next I draw brocade corset with halter neck and a long stole of net with brocade border. I select different shades of blue asking him to give a shimmering blue petticoat under the blue net skirt. I ask him to work out the cost.

He takes fifteen minutes to work out the cost of the garment that I have deisgned and then gives me the figures.

I faint

I think he is crazy, how can a simple garment of just net, brocade and stones cost Rs12000?

I spend another thirty minutes bargaining.

We arrive on a common ground of Rs10500.

It’s crazy. I have never ever worn such an expensive dress. I wouldn’t waste so much money on clothes which I might wear just once.

Well aunting is a tough job. Can’t disappoint my niece!

Dare I??

Fake notes are doing their rounds in ATM machines in Mumbai

and you can do nothing about it. Talk about trusting your bank? Well… that trust goes down the drain.

No bank will ever take any responsibility for the bank notes that are circulating from their ATM machines. If you have a fake note in your pocket, too bad! It’s your bad luck! Sigh!!

Today early morning, in a hurry to pay my web designer a fee of Rs5000, I rushed to the nearest ATM cabin, which is just outside the Bank of India, opposite National college, and extracted the money from the ATM machine.

But my web designer is smart lady, (maybe she has lots of time on hand, or maybe she had been cheated once, because she has made a study of each note and could distinguish the fake note in a jiffy). She checked each note before taking it from me.. and Lo! Behold! One of the one-thousand-rupee-notes was a fake note.

“This note I cannot take, it’s fake note” she said

“But, Maam, I have just removed this from ATM machine this morning, how can it be a fake note?” I said.

And she started to educate me.

She held the note up against the light and looking closely, she said, “Array baba, see the watermark na…this watermark on the empty portion on the left side of the note? Can you see that? One should be able to see a portrait of Mahatma Gandhi in this space, along with multi-directional lines and an electrolyte mark showing the denominational numeral, see, there is no 1000 numeration mark here.”

I looked at her with blank look

She took out the authentic note from her cash box and told me to look closely, “Can you see 1000 numerals in this corner?”

serial no 2BD 579808 is a fake note

At first I couldn’t see anything nor distinguish it but when I held it against the light, I was able to see the numerals. Then she gave me the fake note and showed me the difference. Sure enough, those numerals were missing.

‘Hmmmn” I said

She held the note at eye-level and said, “Look into the gap between the vertical band on the right and the portrait of Mahatma Gandhi. In genuine notes, one should be able to see the word RBI and the denominational numeral in this space.”

True, transparent numerals '1000' were not visible in fake note.

“Now see the micro-lettering too,” she continued “Hold the note up against light. On the left of the portrait and half down the vertical band on the side, one can see a floral design, which appears hollow on the front side and filled up on the opposite side. The denominational numeral can be seen as a whole in this floral design, though the half of the numeral is printed on one side and the other half on the opposite side.”

“Even the visually impaired person can identify the fake note.” She said, stressing her point on ‘visually impaired’, “Look below the floral design. One can see a dark patch in intaglio print (raised print). The shape of the intaglio print varies according to the denomination of the note. Did you know that there are different shapes for various denominations? There are vertical rectangle on Rs20 note, Rs50 - square, Rs100 - triangle, Rs500 - circle and Rs1,000 – diamond.”

I had never known that. My interest was deepening and I wanted to know more about it.

I listened with rapt attention as she told me about other features that appear in intaglio print like: Seal of the RBI, the guarantee and the promise clause, RBI Governor's signature, the Ashoka pillar emblem, and Mahatma Gandhi portrait, all of them had a raised effect.

Even the color of the numeral changed from green (when I held the note flat) to blue (when at an angle).

She then, pointed to the security thread on the note and said, “Look at this line here, this is a security thread. It is 1.4 mm wide. It appears in breaks on the front of the original note. However, from the back, it looks like a complete line. The words RBI and Bharat (in the Devanagari script) is inscribed on it. It appears yellow in ultra-violet (UV) light. This thread will not glow if it is a fake note. Continuity of the security thread is not maintained if it is a fake note.”

I saw the green glow on the real note. Wow!

I kept comparing the fake note with authentic note, seeing the difference for the first time. I had never ever held a fake note but today, I wanted to know everything about it.

“Now let me tell you what features one can see in UV light?” she said, as she took both the notes in her hand. Then she went on to explain to me about how the optical fibers on the bank note make themselves visible when held under ultraviolet light. (In case of a fake note, optical fibers are less in number), the year of printing of the original note is visible in the middle and the reverse side near the bottom, and how it has that unique feel and a crackling sound.

I felt cheated.

I took the fake note to the ‘Bank of India’ Khar, and I was directed to speak to the manager.

From the look on his face, I knew at once that it would be the waste of my time. Firstly, he did not believe me nor acknowledge it and I had to show him the receipt of the proof to convince him that the transaction was done from ATM outside his bank. He argued and I threatened to report it to the media. He got defensive and played the blame game, saying that ATM was not in his control that I must contact ‘Brink Arya India Pvt. Ltd’, a cash handling and secure logistics company and they are the ones who load all the cash in all ATM machine in Mumbai. He told me to search the details about this company online, and then post the complain note with photocopy of receipt of transaction and the fake note.

“Sorry I can do nothing about it” he said seeing my disappointed look. “Now-a-days, who can distinguish the real one from fake one?” he said “Tell me one thing, what makes you say that this note is fake?”

Now it was my turn to educate him. Whether he knew the difference or not, he did listen to me while I explained to him the difference. He expressed his helplessness at not having any control on this aspect, “There are so many notes out there in circulation, how can one have time to separate each one?” He asked.

True.

I am left thinking what can one do about it? Nothing? I can afford to fold this one-thousand-rupee-note into eight folds, tuck it away and move on but what about those who find it difficult to earn a decent living? One thousand rupees is a lot of money to them, can they let it go?

Duplicate currency is manufactured in Pakistan and Bangladesh. The fake notes are brought into India through Nepal by Pakistan's ISI and other terrorist groups. The amount of fake Indian currency in existence today is huge. According to one national daily, in UP alone over Rs40 crores is estimated to be in circulation. This might be the tip of the iceberg. The fake notes generate easy money for terrorists which use it for antisocial activities.

How will this racket stop? How will they separate fake from authentic? Is there really nothing that we can do about it???

I am not very sure that I live in a secured world! As long as terrorists and criminals will keep on manufacturing such notes very intelligently, there is no hope! Nor any help!! Sigh!!

Destiny

Two days ago there was an auto strike in Mumbai, hike in petrol/diesel induced their demand for hike in auto fare. It paid off, the minimum fare of Rs9 shot up to Rs11, I smiled as I argued with the auto guy telling him, “So now auto fare in Mumbai hiked from Rs9 to Rs11, but I don't have one rupee change.. excuse me.. will you let it go??? You also didn't have it then...remember???? Now its my turn to bully you.....” and the guy said, “Kya kare maam, nahi hoga to nahi dena.” he waited till I found a coin to give it to him. But somehow I have always dug out a rupee coin to give them their change and will always try to collect one rupee coins so that I don’t give them less.

And now, as I wait for an auto-rickshaw, there seems to be scarcity of them. Fifteen minutes and no auto, either they are occupied or they are not in mood of taking me across. Silly men, why they refuse to take us, I fail to understand, aren’t they catering their service to our needs? I hate waiting on the middle of the road with a desperate look on my face, but some of them are so heartless, that they don’t feel sorry for my sad look.

Suddenly I see one auto halt in front of me, I wait for the people to pay their fare and I quickly sink in. I don’t want to give him a chance to refuse and I just order him to drive on. He looks at me through his mirror and asks me if I have waited for long.

I stare at his grey head and then meet his eyes in the mirror and say “You people all the same. You will go only where you want to go. Why do you drive an auto? It is better you buy a private vehicle and just give a lift to the people whom you like.”

He smiles and says he understands my anger.

“Truly, I don’t understand your bradhari of auto and taxi drivers!!” I continue.

He smiles and says “Maam, Seems like you are waiting for an auto for a long time. I can tell by the way you barged into my vehicle. How may auto drivers refused to take you? Huh? Ten?”

I nod my head and say, “Maybe ten.”

And he says, “Maybe you were in my destiny that’s why they all refused you. You were destined to sit in my auto.”

I don’t know what to say. Dumbstruck!!!

Destiny??? Wooooh!! I have heard about destiny in choosing a life partner and even a friend, a family, a job, lumpsum money, trip to unknown places, but this grey-haired-auto-driver, a two-minute-chum? I won't even remember his face if I see him again!!!

Was he really in my destiny? I had only two minutes ride in his auto and listened to his chat.

Some destiny there!!!! Hahaha!!

Classic Shopping

Last week I went with my NRI guest to a private fashion designer to see her new range of private collection. She had suits, kurtis and saris, all artistically embroidered with colorful stones, crystals and gold/silver cords and lace. The workmanship was quite neat, so was her price. Each suit was not less than seven grand and some as high as twenty to thirty grand. She showed us the collection of about ten different items, of which my guest bought one sari, one suit and one embroidered blouse. She spent total of forty-five grand.

This week I went with another NRI guest for shopping. We went to Palliadium, the new mall at Pheonix mills at Parel. The mall reeks of luxury, shiny floors and sparkling windows. But where are the shoppers? This is the new mall which will house branded fashion designers. Should I quote the price? Ah! I entered one store and liked one sari but after seeing the price tag, I decided I don’t like it. I would never be able to afford two hundred grand for a sari/suit which I would not have an occasion to wear more than once. Who has spoilt our Indian market? Blame it on NRI’s. Only women with Dollars/Euros will be able to afford such luxury. But wait a minute; I did see few Indians too. They went into the stores, studied the designs and I presumed that they were the fashion designers who would clone these designs and sell it at cheaper price from their private garage.

In Mumbai, there are many such women who work from home. All they need is good tailors, good collection of fashion catalogues, a nice camera to capture the designs when the salesman is not watching and few friends who can spread the word around for them. My friend tells me that latest trends can be copied from popular TV serials. But, to my knowledge, all the clothes that are worn by actors in TV serials are freely available in those common markets at Santa Cruz, Bandra, Breach Candy and Dadar.

But real trendy and latest designs can only be found in designer studios or in private homes.

This week we went to many designer studios and my guest splurges at every store and spends ninety grand in one day! Her shopping included just one sari, few suits, footwear, and two branded purses. Wow!

I blessed my stars for not having such expensive taste. Actually, expensive stuff doesn’t suit me.

I just wear a smile.

Bus Ride in Mumbai City

India is shining. Or rather, I should say that the things are improving a lot, specially my regular four hours journey (back and forth) to my school which I take every alternate Wednesdays.

The bus ride has become a pleasure for me since the introduction of AC bus no 105 from Bandra to CBD.

No more do I have to sit on the hard seat, reserved specially for the ladies, by the window, because I am afraid to sit on any other seat where I might have a male stranger dozing on my shoulder. No more do I have to worry about over-crowded bus where I would feel guilty when I saw more than thirty standees, all jostling for a seat. No more am I exposed to dirt and pollution, and the bad stench during my bus ride that passes through the route of Dharavi and Chembur.

Many a times, I was subjected to the stench and shit that I would see on the road if I wished to peep out of window. I would see the open toilets on the road, the main doors broken, exposing the people in the act. Reading was impossible because there were too many jerks, and I would have difficulty in focusing my attention on vibrating words. I used to prefer to plug the music to my ears and slept most of the journey, not that I could sleep, but shutting my eyes to the realities of the world, I could snooze off to my own imaginary world.

The only time I was awakened from my slumber was when the tempers ruled the bus and people got aggressive over a slight dispute. That was the time, when I too would be curious to differentiate the victim and the culprit during the commotion. I would then secretly take sides, team up and wish for my team to win an argument. Sometimes the argument would get worse and there would be exchange of blows and slaps and the bus would be abandoned in the middle of the road and we would wait till the cops arrive. Sometimes the cops would take too much time to arrive and all the strangers in the bus would become friends and together they would suggest an alternate punishment and pass the verdict.

Yes, travelling by bus exposed me to the difficulties and problems of a common people. It was the closest I could get to them.

Now, I have graduated to AC 105. The seats are comfortable and the bus fare is three-fold. Most of the seats in the bus are empty. There is music playing at the dash board, which is either radio or CD of old Bollywood songs. There is an electric-socket for people who wish to connect their laptop. Most of the people are busy on their mobile, chit-chatting. Recently, they have introduced in-vehicle retailing service managed by the ticket-conductor and soft drinks are up for sale.

During the smooth bus ride, I look out of window, no more, because now, I see the life-styles of a common man only in my books.

Here and There

My friend tells me that she wants to go out of Mumbai with me for few days. I am reminded of the last trip that we went out, and am thinking whether I should go for the next one with her, again?

"Where do you want to go?" I ask her wondering why she ever wants to go anywhere. During our last trip, all she wanted to do was eat, shop or sleep. She wasn’t very much interested in looking around. Our taste differs in every way, but she is just content to go out with me and my friends.

Not that I mind, actually I do like it, I do like to spend time with my friends, I like to talk of thing here and there, share some jokes and learn something from each other’s experiences, but what I like the most is the adventure of trying something new. When we go to a new place, I want to visit the museums, see the new culture, taste the local food, and meet the natives to talk about their common issues. There is certain kind of energy that creeps into my body during the trips out of station. I am able to adjust to all the unavoidable discomfort, but not she.

And, my main problem is the time factor. I am not an early bird. When I wake up, she has already finished her morning walk, had her bath and breakfast, is dressed tip-top from head to toe and is walking impatiently in the room, left, right, left, right, waiting for me to rise. Can’t blame her if she is tired by the time I am done with bath. I always skip the breakfast and we go out for lunch. I don’t like shopping and walking aimlessly, but she does.

What we do together is sit and chat till late nights, play some board games or other creative games, and laugh a lot. In the group of eight, if all are not same, we are not annoyed.

But is that the reason enough to plan the next trip???

Book Launch’“Marwari Vegetarian Cooking’ by Sanjeev Kapoor

Serving the snacks and drink at the book launch is quite rare but not so rare if the launch is for a cookery book. Yes, that is what is so special about attending just that. I was delighted to eat 'Mawa Gujiya' and 'kanji 'drink and the recipes were right there in the book, although while we sipped the drink, the recipes was also read out. The ingredients that made this drink so tasty were crushed musturd powder, red chillie powder, salt and water, yummy....so very delicious, I am drooling yet again.

Attended the book launch of’ Marwari Vegetarian Cooking’ by Sanjeev Kapoor at Crossword at Linking road.

When asked what had inspired him to write such a book, he said that even if five people enquired him about the recipe of a particular region of cooking, he is inspired enough to write, since he is then sure that there is demand for such recipes. Being a graduate in a culinary art, difficult dishes, he said, come easy to him, it was the simple dishes that are difficult to cook and he is known to try every dish before he writes the recipe, tasting each dish and writing in a very simple language so that even a beginner can try their hands on cooking and be successful in this art. In this book he has a punch line after every recipe and that is what makes it so interesting.

At the end of the session I bought 2 copies autographed by him hoping (secretedly) that some day, I will be signing my own published book on cookery perhaps…..

Planning a trip to America - part 8 - Interview.

When I had fixed the appointment time for the interview at 10am, I didn’t know that there would be more than fifty people seeking the appointment at the same time. I didn’t realize that the interview for Visa was not only for Mumbai folks, it also included people from all the consular district surrounding Mumbai from west of India. I had paid Rs250 and had the comfort of waiting in the air-conditioned ‘Stars and Strips Lounge’ at Tirupati Apartments and there was bus facility to transport me to the venue at my appointment time, but those who did not want to pay that amount would be standing in a queue, on the road, outside the consulate. Therefore, when I alighted from my 'Stars n stripes' bus, I was surprised to see hundreds of people standing in a queue that was as long as one kilometer, all standing under no shade, in the hot sun, leaning against the wall for comfort. It pained me to cut that queue and walk in as a privileged client.


I walked into the building, through the glass doors and through security point. Here, they checked my documents again, leaf by leaf, looking desperately for some clues to boycott me, finding none; they let me in after a brief body massage with that metal detector. There was a bigger surprise inside the waiting hall. There were more than hundred people waiting before me. The room was packed with people, all staring at the non-function able indicator on the wall and straining their ears to hear the roll of call. I was directed toward a desk, who again checked my documents, then arranged and returned my passport, appointment letter and large envelop (that would be used for posting the passport if I was approved for the visa) and a token number. There was now another big queue to wait before I could sit down and wait for my turn. This queue was for tracing the ten finger prints.

At 12 noon, I waited for my turn. The number indicator was out of order; people depended on correct pronunciation of the number for their turn. Sometimes there was announcement of one number, and sometimes in groups, they were announced in three languages according to the selection of the people, in Hindi, English or Gujarati, surprisingly they did not announce any numbers in Marathi (Consulate in Maharashtra and no announcement in Marathi? Somebody should protest. hahaaa).

Surprise, can you imagine? Nobody chatted! Everybody was in deep thoughts, looking listlessly, some smiling, some staring and some just praying, but there was no conversation amongst people. Maybe they were equally exhausted like me.

Finally at 1pm I heard my token number announced and I walked inside a cubicle to talk to the officer, seated on a high chair behind a huge glass, talking to me over a mike.

10am was my appointment time; my turn comes at 1pm.

She has already decided that I do not qualify for US Visa because I am single, unemployed (according to them), have no ties attached and is visiting a relative who has a retail business. Chances are that I might make US my permanent home and never return, thus stealing a job that truly belongs to US citizen. My intention of just visiting America as a tourist is not very entertaining to her. I need a handsome bank account and powerful salary slips to show her that I can support myself. She is not even interested in seeing any documents that I had so neatly compiled and was waiting to show her. She has made up her mind. Probably there are certain quotas of refusals per day and it will be easy to include me in that list. I want to tell her that America is outsourcing its jobs in India, why would I want to go to their country to seek jobs? People who live in India have comfortable lifestyles, with live-in maids, and warm loving people. I, for one, have traveled around the world and have never been refused visa before in any country. I have already made up my mind to make Mumbai my permenent home and will never opt to live anywhere else in this world. The only reason one should be refused visa is if it a security threat to their country. I am the most harmless person. I like traveling and like to explore new places. I have also visited America before. During my last trip, I was able to explore only New York, Boston, South Carolina and Albany. This trip I was looking forward to visiting Chicago, Texas and maybe a road trip up to Mexico border.

My mouth is parched. I am hungry and am waiting to end these formalities. I am exhausted and I have no energy to argue.

Moreover, I am not too desperate to make this trip.

Planning a Trip to America ~ Part 7- at Stars and Strips lounge

The day of interview finally arrived. It was scheduled at 10am. I had to go with valid proof of my journey, valid documents, and appointment letter (downloaded from the net.)

I got up early (it said very clearly on the rules page, that if I missed the appointment then I would spell trouble). The first fear that gripped me was what if the alarm did not go on. I know, I know, 10am is not early. But for me it is because I am a late riser. And I had to go to the other side of the city. That means I need to leave two hours early and one hour I would need to get dressed, so the perfect time would be to get up at 7am. I set all the clocks in my house at 7am, plus my mobile phone and also told my two friends to call me to wake me and nobody betrayed me. Morning, at 7am, I was mobbed with too many wake-up calls.

Got dressed up and headed towards south Mumbai. The traffic was too much. Why do they have so many signals on Mumbai road? Or rather, why do they have so many cross-road junctions everywhere? On the days when you wish to hurry, your transport is likely to halt at every signal on the road and you are destined to be caught up in traffic jams. Braving all this hassle, I reached the embassy building at 9:45am, just fifteen minutes before my appointment time. I approached the attendant outside the Visa Application Centre (Tirupati Apartments) and I was directed towards ‘Stars and Strips Lounge’. Two fierce-looking men sat at the desk outside the lounge that checked my receipt of Rs250 and gave me coupons for entry, drink and snack. I was then directed towards the locker room. (As I mentioned earlier they did have a locker room for their distinguished guest, and they had wasted my one full day when I was carrying a camera the other day and nobody would help me) I deposited my handbag, mobile phone and all my belongings into the locker room. I was allowed to carry my wallet and my documents. These formalities took so much time that the bus that was supposed to take me to the other venue (at American embassy) for interview had already left. I was feeling guilty at arriving so late.

I was asked to wait in ‘Stars and Strips lounge’ I looked at my watch, it was 10am. I approached those fierce-looking men, informing them that it was past my appointment time and I was getting late and could he arrange to reach me at the venue that was about ten minutes away. He informed me that I had missed my 10am bus and would have to wait for the next bus. Cursing myself, I entered the lounge and headed towards a small kiosk in the room. There were soft drinks, tea, coffee, cakes, croissants, sandwiches, etc. I had no appetite for eating anything in the morning; I used my drinks-coupon to buy coffee. There were more than fifty people in the lounge, all the aspiring visa seekers, killing time by watching the cricket match on TV. Cricket does not interest me, so I just sat there, staring into the space or at people surrounding me. Young girls praying silently, young men fidgeting with their folders and documents, old men, women, some of them in deep meditation, all hoping that they would not be refused their visa. The atmosphere is very tense and vibrations no good. The time ticks slowly, and at 10;30am the bus finally arrives to transport the next batch of people to the other venue at American Embassy.

To be continued….

Planning a trip to America -- part 6- Submitting Visa application papers

Breach Candy (also known as Bhulabhai Desai Road) is a place closer to famous religious monuments like Haji Ali Mosque and Mahalaxmi temple. It also has a Breach Candy hospital, an elite Breach Candy Club, and eateries which are quite popular with the expats.

Breach Candy is a hip place and shoppers’ paradise. This is the place where American embassy chooses to have its two venues, one for submitting visa papers and other for holding their ‘interviews’. The venue for submitting the papers is surrounded by the row of shops selling trendy clothes, watches, sunglasses and has some elite supermarkets that sell exotic foods that may not be available in other parts of the city. On any other day, I would enjoy walking down this street, window shopping but on the day of submitting my visa papers; I was in no mood to do anything else.

I returned to this venue the next day again, this time sans camera. (as I mentioned earlier that I had to waste one day because I had camera in my bag the previous day) the security guard checked my bag, silenced my cell phone and satisfied that I was an innocent citizen just seeking visa, I was granted entry to go through a narrow gate, down the steps into a heavily guarded office. I looked around noticing that there was no piece of art that would have attracted my attention enough to click the pictures even if I had camera on me.

There were five windows and enough seats to wait for your turn. I was the only person entering this office and I submitted my papers. The woman behind the window scrutinized my papers and was not happy with my photograph. They are very particular about the photograph. Photo format should be exactly as it is required. In my photograph some strands of hair were falling on my ears. She asked me to go to the photography cabin and click my picture in accordance to the requirement.

The girl in the photography cabin had a digital camera mounted on a tripod, a computer and a small printer on her side table. She clicked my photograph and then checked the picture in her computer, not satisfied, clicked one more picture and removed the ugliest photograph of me with a full charge of Rs100 for her labor. I must tell you that she was no good photographer With all my hair strung back behind my ears, droopy eyes and no smile to add the rosy-ness to the face, I resembled a terrorist and I was sure anybody would be refused visa with such expressions. Not even a second thought would ever change their mind. Silly!!!

Anyways, I returned to the window to deposit my photograph and the girl had enough time to go through my papers.

‘What do you do?” she asked me when I returned.

“I am a coordinator with a special school, I collect funds for the school, maintain two blogs for the school ( from my six blogs that I update regularly), counsel the parents of the special children, hold workshops for special teachers and am also a committee member” I said.

“That’s not a job” she said, handing me my papers she said, “Write here that I am ‘unemployed presently”

I looked at her from the corner of my eyes; wondering if it is necessary to show salary slips to confirm that I am not idle? I wanted to ask her but I was in no mood to argue. I took the application form from her and wrote ‘presently unemployed’ signing my name beneath those words.

Fully satisfied, she asked me if I would want to wait in comfort and without stress at ‘Stars and Strips lounge’ on the day of my interview. I was asked to pay Rs250 cash (no credit card is honored for this service) and to come just thirty minutes prior to my interview time.

To be continued……

Planning a trip to America - part 5- No camera please!

After organizing all my papers, fixing a date for interview online, and getting all the proofs to show the validity of the informations on the application form, I headed to the office to submit my papers.

Just submitting the papers should not be a problem. Right? But since problems follow me everywhere, they accompanied me to this office too.

The office rules states that following items are not allowed:

*All battery operated or electronic gadgets such as mobile phones, digital diaries, pagers, cameras, audio/video cassettes, compact discs , MP3’s, floppies ,lap tops, palm tops or portable music players.
*All ladies hand bags/purses. Only a small ladies pouch in hand will be permitted.
*All bags such as travel bags, back packs, brief cases, suit cases, leather, jute or cloth bags and zip folders. Only a plastic bag containing your application related papers will be permitted.
*Any food item.
*Sealed envelopes or packages
*Cigarettes / cigars / match boxes / lighters
*Any sharp object such as a pair of scissors, pen knives or nail filers

Okay, I did read the rules that following items are not allowed at the embassy for security reasons, but shouldn’t they have some lockers, somewhere at the entrance where people can keep their stuff if they have it on them?

Being a blogger, I normally carry camera with me everywhere and thoughtlessly, I was carrying one on that day too. The security guard refused to let me in and wanted me to deposit my camera else where. Where could I deposit my camera? I knew nobody in that area and going home/retuning back to the office would take me more that three hours. I was desperately asking for help, but nobody could help me, security guards said that they were helpless, ‘rules are rules’ they said and they had strict instructions to follow. damn!

This office is in a busy area and there are line of stores adjoing this office. Just next to the office was a supermarket that had facility of depositing the extra shopping bags of the people who entered the store for buying grocery. I dumped my camera into the plastic bag and approached the supermarket, depositing my bag at the entrance. I told him to hold on, I would be back and then I would shop at his store. But he refused to keep my plastic bag informing me that he had permission to keep the shopping bags of the people who were inside the store and not for the people who were seeking Visa next door. I tried several stores but none were helpful. I didn’t know what to do? Submitting the papers should not take more than ten minutes but I could find neither a friendly neighboring store nor any helpful security guards to hold on to my camera for ten minutes.

A young man standing at the corner of the street saw my desperation and wanted to help me. He volunteered to hold my camera till I was back. Should I trust him? How could I? He had no fixed stand. It was an expensive camera, what if he took it and walked off while I was inside the office submitting the papers. Where would I find him? I was weighing my options. He seemed sincere and kind (no doubt about that) but it was the risky to trust a stranger. Sulk* sulk*

I took a taxi home, I decided to return back the next day, without a camera.
I had wasted one more day……..

Ps: few days later I learnt that they did have facility of lockers for distinguished guests who waited in  'Stars and Strips lounge’.

More of that later……

Planning a trip to America – part 3 - Pay before you apply

While visiting other countries in the world, all we need is valid passport, a booked ticket and photographs, but visiting America needs lots of planning and no agent can do it for you. You have to self-apply for the visa and that too online.

First things first…you have to pay before you apply for a visa. Yeah right! Did I hear some one asking ‘What if they don’t give you visa?’ Hahahaa…!!! Your money is gone down the drain, and it is not a small amount, mind you, it is rupees seven thousand plus….I am told that they refuse many applicants per day and swallow up their hard earned money to pay the salary of those insensitive people at the consulate.

Well. I went to HDFC bank to pay for the visa, no, not any HDFC branch, (there are so many HDFC branches in Bandra area, but none were authorized to accept the payments for the visa) the nearest HDFC bank was more than 10 kms away and during rush hour, it takes more than forty minutes to reach that bank.

In hot sun, I took auto and reached the bank. I was directed to a desk that was manned by two people stationed for this purpose (yawning away). I showed them the photocopy of my passport and they made a ‘USA MRV VISA FEE DEPOSIT SLIP’ (three copies) that had barcode sticker.

This is the barcode number that we are suppose to use to book our appointment online

Three hours wasted for just paying for the visa. (For someone who opts to use public transport in Mumbai city, the time wasted will be more than that)

to be continued……

Slow coach

Traveling by a public bus in the city of Mumbai is always amusing but injurious to the health, especially if you are suffering from BP. It takes lot of tolerance and patience to combat Mumbai traffic and frequent signals.


But, I always prefer bus to taxi for two reasons, one, that taxi is sheer waste of money if you are traveling alone for a longer distance and two, you get to see all kinds of people in the bus and some of them are really interesting.

Today I decided to take a bus from Bandra to Breach Candy, which should not take me more than twenty minutes to reach my destination if there is no traffic congestion on the road. The bus was empty and I got a window seat. After buying a ticket of Rs10 only (I was saving Rs120- taxi fare) I sat by the window reading a magazine.

In twenty minutes, the bus had reached Dadar, which is half way distance to breach Candy. A Senior Person (SP) in the bus was getting impatient and kept looking at his watch. Finally, he got up and started abusing the driver.

SP said, “You drivers are very inefficient, even when there is no traffic, you drive so slow, can’t you drive faster?”

Driver says “This is the speed I normally drive,”

SP-“You need a good driving practice, there is no traffic today and the roads are empty, why are you driving so slow, stop the bus, get up from that seat and let me teach you how to drive.”

And the argument went on and on with SP abusing him all the time, but the driver kept his cool and continued to drive at his own speed. Finally SP realized that he was wasting his time, he alighted the bus when he could take this slow speed no more.

I realized then that the bus was going too slow indeed. Well, what do we expect, for Rs10? Speed at Rs10? Not possible! I looked at my watch. Forty five minutes and only two-third of the distance covered.

Now I was getting impatient too. At the speed that he was driving, it would take me more than one hour to reach my destination.

Feeling helpless, I alight from the bus and take taxi for the rest of the distance.

Tranquility restored with little bit of extra cash for taxi fare.

Mumbai is not afraid.

Early morning my sistah calls me and warns me not to step out of house. I want to know the reason, and she says, because flu is in air, (but that I already know,) media has pounded me with an overdose of this news, and if I have work to do, it cannot wait. So I leave for school on this dangerous morning But the streets are full, aren’t all the people supposed to sit indoors? Nah! The spirit in Mumbai is that it never sleeps and when they can dare floods and riots then who is afraid of this silly disease? Just a flu (never mind if it has got a horror name-swine flu) People in Mumbai always believe that nothing can hamper their spirit and streets are crowded like they always are. Did you say that Children are vulnerable to swine flu? Well, this kid must be not more than 5 years and he is here on the street without any cloth covering his mouth,(I did see many people with their mouth covered) but not this kid, he doing his odd jobs of begging….I saw him run with a packet of Vada Pav, (which somebody had given him) and was back to the same place (without eating his share) to continue his begging And what about this dabawallah…he takes a breather on his inverted stack, smoking his beedi and then taking a short nap. But I play safe. I decide to go to school in AC bus. When I reach school after two full hours of travel, there is a sinister look in school….school is closed…..